The Mortifying Ordeal (of Love)
by FredNeverDied
Summary: "If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known." Remus thinks that if he can make himself stay away from her now, it will be better for them both in the long run, but Tonks believes that if she can convince him how supremely stupid this is, then maybe they could be happy together now. Set circa Half Blood Prince.
1. Chapter 1

_If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known._

 _-Tim Kreider, I Know What You Think of Me_

* * *

The Mortifying Ordeal (of Love)

It was a rainy Tuesday evening of dead winter, when Tonks arrived at Number 12, Grimmauld Place and quietly let herself in. Quietly, that is, until she stepped over the threshold and promptly knocked over the umbrella stand waiting for her there. She dove forwards to catch its lip but missed the edge and over-balanced, kicking it further and wincing as the stand and its assortment of still-dripping umbrellas came down with a crash.

"Hello Tonks!" called a few good-natured voices from the kitchen. No one had even seen her yet. She stood on the doormat, feeling soggy and a bit abashed. This was not necessarily the reputation she'd wanted to carve out for herself amongst the Order.

"Need a bit of help?" came a familiar voice. She glanced up as a figure rounded the corner, his smile looking a little more amused than it had any right to, and she felt her heart warm at the sight.

"Here," he said, and with a casual flick of his wand, Remus had righted the stand and sent its scattered belongings back to their places.

"Sorry," she muttered. He grinned and shot a charm at her chest, sending a warm blast of air through her clothes that left her feeling clean and freshly laundered. Maybe she even smelled better.

"Don't mention it," he said. He picked up the corner of her sleeve and inspected his handiwork, and Tonks did her very best not to notice how close he was standing. The spell seemed to meet his own self-criticism for he nodded at her hand and looked back up, only then realizing their proximity and taking a half step away.

"Well, thank you then," she said quickly. "Got caught in the downpour. I had to run for it after work to find a good place to Disapparate from."

"Is Moody really keeping your nose that close to the grindstone?" he said teasingly. "I'll be sure to tell him he's being too hard on you."

"Don't you dare," she growled, "He'd double my load and you know it." Remus only grinned and she couldn't help but join him. "I actually got sucked into a conversation at report submissions," she said. "One of the clerks, this woman named Hubbard, wouldn't let me get away without hearing every last detail about her weekend."

"Hubbard," said Remus, "Not Eleanor Hubbard?"

"You know her?"

A wicked grin lit his features and he leaned in conspiratorially. Tonks couldn't help but feel a bit flattered. She'd rarely caught him in a mood like this, even briefly, and certainly not since last June, what with Sirius…

"If she ever starts dragging your time out again," Remus said. "Just try to interest her in the topic of horses. She'll never trust you again but she'll never bother you."

"Horses?"

Remus nodded gravely. "Horses."

His tone made her immediately suspect the worst.

"Not as in _likes-_ likes horses though?" she said. "Eleanor, she's not got…a horse _thing_ , does she?" But Remus didn't budge. " _Does_ she?" Tonks said.

He raised his hands in easy surrender.

"I wouldn't know, _per se_ ," he said. "But when she was a fifth year, I was in my seventh. And one night on prefect patrol, Lily and I happened to pass a broom cupboard with some very strange noises coming out of it." Tonks' jaw dropped. He shrugged. "I'll just say that once we'd told them to put their clothes back on and clear off, we both agreed that we'd heard…"

"Horses."

"Exactly."

They maintained a straight face with each other for nearly three seconds before bursting out with a laugh. She touched his arm as she giggled and he placed his hand over hers in an equally familiar gesture before they both caught themselves and pulled their hands away, noting again that somehow they were standing closer than they'd intended.

"Eh, come on then," Remus said quickly, sobering back up. "You missed the lovely dinner Molly made, but the meeting should be starting soon." He shuffled off and she followed him to where the others were gathered.

"Ambushed at the door were you?" growled Moody upon her entering. With a jump she feared he was referring to Remus before realizing her mentor only meant to prey on her poor treatment of the umbrella stand.

"Piss off Alastor," she replied in as kind a voice as she possessed, receiving a hard glare for it. Remus' tweed-clad shoulders, still just ahead, shook for a moment as if to laugh at her but when he turned round again, his face was neutral.

There were seven of them together in the room, with Remus, Moody, McGonagall, herself, and Molly and Arthur arranged around the edges of the kitchen. Voices from nearby rooms signaled that others had come to join for a light supper before the Order business was called together and the plates around the room attested to the gathering. Most of members though wore grim faces and while Tonks found herself feeling more and more somber in general these days with each new disappearance or village attack announced in the papers, she suspected that dinner had hardly been a festive affair.

"Managed to get away from the school for the night?" she asked after a moment. McGonagall roused from her own thoughts.

"Hm, oh yes," she said. "I suppose this is how the nights off go these days, but that's just how it will have to be for a while."

"How's Harry doing?" she asked. From the corner of her eye she caught Remus smile ruefully.

"Well, I think," McGonagall replied. "He's been Captain of the Quidditch team this year, and it seems to be a good distraction for him."

"He'd do better keeping away from distractions like that," muttered Alastor, to which Remus only said,

"Well then perhaps we can allow him just this one."

They lapsed back into strained, brooding silence and Tonks was only too grateful when they heard the front door open to a new arrival. Moody took it as a cue.

"Getting towards starting time, if you can make your ways to the great room." He started out and was wearily followed by Arthur and McGonagall. Molly grabbed a few plates and made for the sink but Remus stopped her.

"I've got this," he said, gathering the dishes from her with one movement. "You go on, I'm not going to make this one anyway." Molly nodded with sympathy and touched the younger man's cheek before she slipped out to join her husband. Tonks looked him over before turning to follow. He was handsome as ever in her own opinion, but the past months she knew had been particularly hard on him. There were still meeting in Sirius' house after all, and it certainly wasn't making the loss of a best friend any easier. His usually shabbiness had grown worse since last June and his eyes were always tired, hands prone to shake.

But even as he cleaned the dishes off, Tonks couldn't help but appreciate the little subtleties about him that had grown so lovely to her in the past year. The over-annunciated movement of his wand, making even the smallest movements meticulous and elegant, the precision and efficiency displayed in each decision. She liked the way he bobbed when he stood so that he was never quite still but always swinging slightly in motion; she'd noticed that it made him ready to move quickly should something go wrong, as his momentum was always keyed up to duck and roll. She liked the way he chewed his lip when he was thinking or ruffled his hair up when he was absent-minded or made little half-hearted snaps when was distracted. They were nuances that no one else would ever notice, and yet that she found them all the more charming and attractive than any deliberate romance. As he turned his head, the scars along his neck peaked from beneath his collar and her heart ached a little for him all over again.

" _It wouldn't ever work," he'd said quietly._

" _I don't agree," she'd replied. It had taken her this long to tell him how she felt, knowing that with Remus, timing would be everything, but for all her deliberation she could feel the moment slipping away from her and wanted very badly now not to sound helpless._

" _I'm too old for you," he said._

" _Shouldn't I get to decide things like that?"_

" _Maybe you're too young for me then," he joked gently. She didn't laugh._

" _Tonks, there are so many other people…anyway, I thought you and Charlie Weasley were—or had—?"_

 _She dismissed this quickly. "In school for a bit, but we've been only friends for years now. I want—" she took a step forward and his eyes lighted for half a second. It was so very fleeting yet she took the look as small encouragement. He wasn't refusing her because the feeling wasn't mutual, he was refusing her because he currently had duty and needless self-denial mixed up. Even now there was a tension in his expression, something stuck between admiration and frustration._

" _Remus, I like you rather a lot," she said. "And I don't care if—"_

" _Tonks," he stopped her. "I can't. Not like this." He instinctively cupped his neck and rubbed his palm across the old lines just beneath his neckline._

" _I don't care about those," she said softly._

" _I'm sorry," he said, his voice still quiet, and she painfully knew that he did mean it. "But_ I do _."_

"Alright there?" she asked him, coming out of her thoughts. She gestured as if to help with the dishes, but he just shrugged and sent the cleaned plates and cups flying to their separate cupboards in one spell. He never meant to show off, but of course it was a move that would have required most wizards at least a two-spell process.

"No, thank you," he said, "But I need to be heading on."

"Heading on?" she asked, but he moved at that moment and his head was framed in the window by the dim light of the setting sun.

The sun was going down and, she remembered, the moon would soon come up. The lines under his eyes were deeper than usual and his pinkies trembled. She realized he'd been leaning against another surface ever since entering the room to help him stand up.

"Oh." She said. "It's that night."

"Yes," he said, resignedly. "It's that night."

They stood looking at each other for half a moment and then, spontaneously, opened their mouths to speak, to stammer, to apologize for something neither wanted to mention but equally felt ashamed of, when someone from the entrance distinctly cleared their throat.

The pair looked up to see Severus Snape in the doorway, his lip curled and a knowing look in his eyes as he flicked between the two of them.

"If I'm not _interrupting_ anything," he said, with a voice that knew fully well what he was interrupting.

"Nothing at all, Severus," Remus said, recovering faster of the two of them. He stepped forwards gratefully. "Have you got it then?"

"Of course," said Snape, withdrawing a vial from within his cloak. He swirled it testily in front of Remus' nose. "Cutting things a little close tonight aren't we?" he said, looking towards the window. It was already getting dark out. Tonks felt the blood build up in her temples. Snape had only grown worse after Sirius' death, but aggravation like this was repugnant.

"I was relying on you, of course," said Remus, taking the vial from him. She noticed that at least the way he snatched it was not without some spite. Remus' voice was like cooled acid. "Thank you very much, Severus."

"Of course," replied the potions master, "Wouldn't want the meeting broken up by any sort of attack you know, especially if it was one our own unwitting members." Remus stiffened at the words and Snape pressed his advantage. "It would be a poor way to end the night's discussion if we had to put down one of our own."

That was too far. Tonks coughed pointedly and Snape looked up at her. In another age, he had been her own teacher and since then become something of a colleague, but in this moment, he felt distinctly like the enemy. The impression made her think that perhaps she'd spent a little too much time listening to Sirius… Remus however, had let his hand drift deliberately to the wand stashed at his hip, and Tonks felt a bit bolder. Then again, perhaps she'd spent a little too much time listening to them both. Snape had also noticed the tension and shifted his attention to make an exit

"I assume you'll be _filling each other in_ later," he said, smiling when her nostrils flared at the innuendo. "We'll try to keep things simple in the meeting, Lupin, I'm sure you don't want to miss much."

And with a flourish, he was gone.

"He is absolutely horrid," Tonks growled.

Remus grunted. He flicked the little stopper open and downed the dark potion in one, racking gulp, wriggling as it went down his throat. "I'll drink to that," he said, his voice raspy.

* * *

The meeting broke up a few hours later. Tonks spoke with McGonagall for a little while afterwards, catching up for an almost light-hearted moment before the deputy headmistress would have to return to her duties and the young Auror to her own. They milled for a while, but as the group began to thin, each back to their own lives, Tonks found herself floating down the corridor towards the door that would lead her to the basement. With the old Black family of course, the basement was more of a refitted dungeon, and it would be cleaned out and bared for the full moon's events, locked and bolted several times over from the outside, just in case. As a member of the Order, though, she could undo the trick fairly easily, they all used the same charm combination anyway…

"Nymphadora," came a voice down the hall. She looked up to see Arthur Weasley approaching. "I wouldn't mess with that, that's where Lupin prefers to go on nights like, well, like tonight," he said meaningfully.

"I know," she said carefully, glancing back at the door handle. He was all alone down there. The potion kept him human in his mind, even if the moonlight turned his body against him. It couldn't be an easy sort of night, not by oneself…he'd told her how Sirius used to join him, how that had made things easier…

"Let him be," Arthur said kindly. She looked up at him and saw there was a little more wisdom in his eyes than she'd expected to find there. "He has a hard enough time seeing himself like this, and he respects you very much. I don't think he'd want for you to see him like this either." From the way that he had said respect, Tonks felt like he'd nearly said a different word entirely; but she ignored the thought.

"Have you ever seen him…?" she said, vaguely trailing off. Arthur shook his head.

"Like this? I wouldn't want to. And he likely prefers that." He put a hand on her shoulder. "The war will be over someday soon," he said. "And people can have surprising changes of heart when they go through things like this together." And with that same, surprisingly clever twinkle, he turned away to rejoin his wife and the others filing out of Grimmauld.

Tonks glanced back down at the door knob and thought for a moment that she heard a noise behind it. Down below in the old Black dungeon, that wasn't whimpering, was it? She leant her forehead against the frame. It wasn't him in there, and yet it was. That immaculate disaster of a battered professor with his gentle smile and sure, unshakeable spirit, locked beneath all that self-doubt, locked in a wolf's body, locked up in a basement?

There was a small scuffle below and she heard something snort. It reminded her of the way a dragon blew its air out when it was settled and ready to rest. Underneath all that it was still Remus, of course. She remembered what the werewolf illustrations had looked like in her schoolbooks. Arched legs and long claws with a ripped and dangerous smile. She covered the imaginary wolf with a tweed jacket and immediately it was much friendlier, even looked a little bewildered at her. He didn't belong downstairs any more than he belonged inside that silly, awful animal.

"Nymphadora," called Arthur. At the end of the hall, he was still waiting for her, gesturing with his umbrella as if offering a corner of it to walk out under with him and Molly. She sighed. On the other hand, Arthur Weasley had a fair point. Remus wouldn't want her to come, in fact he'd made it clear that he didn't want her at all. Not in the way that she did at least. She knew this, and the knowledge stung a bit, but between the two of them there had always been an unspoken "yet" or at least a tacit "if only."

She thought the better of herself and slowly turned to leave.

"I'm coming," she called to Arthur.

* * *

 _has it really been two years since I've posted anything? (yikes!) drop a fave or a review or just come say hello! pt. 2 coming-_


	2. Chapter 2

The Mortifying Ordeal (of Love)

Remus lay curled up in the corner of the dark room, his chin resting on his front legs, tail wrapped securely around his back feet. The clock on the wall had rung ten o'clock and he'd heard the shuffle upstairs of Order members on their way out for the night.

His nose twitched despite himself as picked up and separated the various scents of his friends and colleagues. He groaned and tried to put a hand—paw—over his face but it made no difference. One thing he truly hated about his condition were the effects of his heightened senses. Everything around him was entirely overstimulating and yet maddeningly out of reach. The wolf's instincts flared up in protest against the powers of the potion as meat—people—milled about overhead. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on the rational and discard the appetitive. The floral scent mixed with ground cinnamon and wool dye was most assuredly Molly, while the ink, soap, and cordial smell of almond hand lotion was definitely Minerva. Snape drifted overhead in a palatable cloud of grease and potion fume, and Remus felt the hackles rise along his broad and morphed shoulders.

Snape had had no right to query into his relationship with Tonks, and that infuriating look of his had taken it all in in one maddening glance of judgment. What did he know about it anyway? What did he know about self-denial or distance or temptation or sacrifice or love—?

Remus' intellect cringed against the confession but his instincts roared up to confirm it. It was now months that he and Tonks had been circling around each other, _months_ of him seeing her, thinking about her, watching as she would surge forwards in debate or in battle only to settle back later in friendly conversation, both lively and gregarious or gentle and encouraging. He'd realized to his chagrin that she was James and Sirius and Lily all at once. She had the fury and outrage of pure hope and willpower balanced with the kindness and good humor of believing in the unshakable principles home and friendship. Honestly, what wasn't there for him to be drawn to?

They'd known each other for what now? more than a year? And all the effort and willpower he possessed had been poured into controlling his actions, yet his feelings were abandoned to roam as they would. Remus curled up deeper into himself. It wouldn't do. It would never do. The world at large would be unjust to him as long as he was unacceptable to it, and anything that grew terrible claws and cursed teeth once a month certainly didn't fit the bill. The past fifteen years of his life had been a hellscape of which Tonks still knew nothing, and he would give anything to keep it that way. She didn't know what she was trying to get into, and once she understood, she wouldn't stay. It was better to circle each other than lose her altogether.

The floorboards by the top of the stairs creaked and Remus picked his head up, nose twitching.

Oh God, there she was. It was like he could see her through the door, his senses went so sharp so quickly. She hovered by the entrance, waves of lavender and rosemary rolling off her in an intoxicatingly comfortable draught, along with something mysterious that smelled like warmth and something exciting that smelled like a rainstorm. He groaned again and ducked his face beneath his hands— _paws_. It was torment, really. After a moment, the boards creaked as she walked away, but the scent still lingered at the doorway, coiling down the stairs and across the floor to run along his spine and settle in his fur. Forbidden and fitting all at once.

He should sleep, he decided, he really should. It was hard to, in this form, but he would only feel the worse for it in the morning. If he could just convince his instincts into submission for the night, then maybe—

Remus was roused from his thoughts by the door opening, lamplight slicing into the darkness and cutting across to the opposite wall. Instinctively, he pressed himself farther into his corner, knowing discovery so often meant exile. The door closed and his room plunged back into blackness.

"Remus?" came a voice.

His heart froze.

Tonks?

A figure on the steps moved dimly towards him as his eyes adjusted again to the dark. She was walking slowly, scanning the room as though she expected to recognize him somewhere, even though within this shape Remus felt alien and hostile.

Tonks came closer and he growled to let her know where he was. The sound came out menacing and low and she froze, the smell of cortisol—fear—rippling off her in a sudden twist of feeling. She'd only just considered if maybe the potion hadn't taken after all. Perhaps she really was in here with just a monster. Remus sat up to half his height. She shouldn't be here— _she should not be here_ —she should not see the thing that grew out of his skin every month; but in this moment, he couldn't just leave her thinking that that man she knew was missing and only the beast nearby

He growled again, the softest noise that this voice could make, but there was no helping the fact that the only tones he could produce sounded like a threat. She slipped her wand from her pocket and held it before her, stance defensive.

"Remus?" she said.

There was nothing else for it now. He stepped forward, his head bent as low as possible into the most unaggressive posture he could assume.

"Lumos."

The light scattered over his shoulders and he looked up, blinking into her eyes over the wand's point.

Remus' heart thudded against his ribcage, nerves, instinct, and thought rolling together in a blind panic. The Marauders had seen him like this, his parents of course, Dumbledore a few times from a distance, and Lily just once in a very extenuated circumstance. But no one other than Sirius had been with him in this form since the invention of the Wolfsbane potion, and that had only ever been as Padfoot. Remus in his own mind had seen no other human being when that human could only look back at a werewolf. What would she say to him now, or think of him? What could she possibly think now?

Tonks raised her other arm, something dark in her hand.

"I brought us Shakespeare," she said.

* * *

It was scary, she decided. It was definitely scary. The illustrations of werewolves in her schoolbooks had only been so descriptive. They had not managed to convey the effects of actual _size_. The werewolf that she met in the basement of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was much closer to the size of a bear than a natural wolf, and the warped lines of his body were grossly stretched and ragged from transformation. But the eyes were there. They were frightened and bewildered, but they held a man's expression, not an animal's. She knew that she absolutely could have thrown one of his scruffy jackets over him now and the image would not be terribly far off from the man she loved.

"I brought us Shakespeare," she said. He cocked his head, understanding her but not understanding. It was bizarre to speak to him like this, holding a one-sided conversation with such a good conversationalist, and yet it was familiar and comfortable as ever to share with him. She stepped forward.

"I thought you must be bored down here, and I figured you might want company, someone to talk to, or, to talk to you at least. Sirius told me that he liked to stay up with you on full moon nights and spend them down here as a dog or listening to music and I don't know, I thought maybe—"

She was rambling, but she didn't really care, and she sat down next to him heavily and opened up the thick anthology she'd fetched from Sirius' library. Immediately, Remus flicked it close with his nose, and looked up at her, their faces close, his long, fuzzy nose just inches away from her own. A werewolf. A prime example of the killing machines she'd heard horror stories about as a child, sitting next her, perfectly conscious and lucid in his own mind. Tonks could see herself reflected in his pupils, her short pink hair and dark shirt warped around the edges in the concavity of his golden eyes. Her breath was short. The hair stood up on her arms. He put a foot down over the book's cover and threw his head towards the door.

'Go on,' he was saying.

"I'm not afraid of this," she whispered. She put a hand on his thick, hairy neck just where the scars would be on his human body. "I don't care."

Their breathing was in perfect tandem for one full electric moment and then he backed away, sat down, and lowered his face to his front legs.

'If you must,' was the message.

Internally victorious, Tonks reopened the book and found the beginning of the nearest play. "O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention," she began, switching to the bold, dramatic voice of a narrator. Remus rolled his head to the side and cocked his ears at her. Was that a smile in the corner of his wide mouth? "A kingdom for a stage, princes to act…"

* * *

When the clock began to ring the quarter to seven, Remus stirred from his position. Tonks broke off reading and glanced over at him. At some point in the night, they'd readjusted themselves so that she leant up against his deep chest and he curled around her with his head at her side so he could follow along in the book. They'd made it quickly through _Henry V_ ("We few, we happy few, we band of brothers!") and followed that up with _Julius Caesar_ ("Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, shrunk to this little measure?") and then she'd spent a little while catching him up on the Order meeting's minutes, before settling into _Much Ado About Nothing_ , because by then she'd decided that they both deserved a comedy.

Tonks had only reached the end of the second act ("When I said that I would die a bachelor, I did not think that I would live to marry!") when the great furry comforter which had been her backrest roused and a warm nose rested on the page.

"What, is he calling you out?" she nearly said, but managed to censor herself and ask instead "What, is something wrong?" He cast a baleful eye up to the clock as the last chime faded and Tonks quickly got the picture.

"Don't suppose you want me around when the change back happens?" she said, glancing over meaningfully at the folded clothes nearby them on the floor. He gave her a look that needed little interpretation. She groaned and rose to her feet despite the protest of frozen joints while Remus also stood and shook himself out like a great dog.

It was a little disorienting again. In the hours of reading, she'd somehow managed to disassociate the breathing backrest she leaned against from the man she knew. But seeing him—it—the wolf form—again and knowing that inside was that proud and beautiful character she felt strangely off-put.

But Remus did something strange then that brought her back to the moment. He padded forwards and gently pushed his head against the crook of her arm, leaning into the instinctual half-embrace she offered with a firm push. The message this time was very clear.

Thank you.

In response, she dipped her own head down and bumped it against his forehead.

You're welcome.

Turning, she climbed the stairs again and let herself out, seeing him once from the top step looking up at her, with an inexplicable, blazing look in those very, very human eyes.

* * *

Tonks was in the kitchen when she heard him knock at the door. The transformation wasn't ever quiet, a painful process that even she didn't want to intrude on, but after having vacated the area to allow Remus some space to return to himself, she'd been perched on the sink counter drinking tea until he would ask to be let out.

She set down her mug and crossed to the locked door, wondering if, now that they were both back in the real world above, whether or not she would have to apologize for last night, or if the two of them would even acknowledge it at all. It would be just like him to come out the next morning feeling guilty for something blameless and overthink the matter into a massive, ridiculous mistake.

The knock came again, more vehemently and Tonks hurried over.

In fact, it was very likely he wouldn't acknowledge last night. A curt thank you for reading awaited her and then they'd go back to the touch-and-god relationship they'd carried on for months now. She sighed as she tapped her wand against the locks, not quite registering the last tumbler falling out of place until the door burst open before her.

Remus stood there, slightly out of breath, with his hair more disheveled than usual and his clothes all undone. From the looks of him, he hadn't thought she would still be around, perhaps expecting someone else to come take care of him, but now that she was here, again, he was dazed all over again. Remus' gaze darted behind her in a nervous way that made her think the animal hadn't totally left his system yet. He settled back to looking at her, still full of that burning, grateful look.

"Remus—?" she said, but all of a sudden he strode forward, catching her by the waist and kissing her hard. The words died in Tonks' mind as his other hand caught her jaw, fingers skimming through her hair and digging in gently at her side. Instinctively, she wound her own grip into his shirt and tugged his body closer, opening her mouth and kissing for him for just a few more gorgeous, gratified seconds before Remus suddenly pulled away.

The look on his face was dumbly startled, as though he'd played no part in starting this, and he stumbled back a step in confusion.

"Remus—?" she said, now more concerned than anything, but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, it's transformation adrenaline, I can't, I'm terribly, I shouldn't have, I, uh, I'm sorry, I'm, the transformative adrenaline—" and in an incoherent string of apologies and self-chastisement, he drifted away from her, still looking confused and unclear if the whole thing had really occurred or if he was still stuck inside a dream.

* * *

It took a full day for Remus to start looking significantly healthier from his full moon night and it took a full week before he could look her in the eyes while holding a conversation. She'd called it that he wouldn't know what to make of his actions that morning or her actions that night, and instead retreated from the issue with silent ignominy. They never acknowledged it, and yet something had changed between them that Tonks couldn't yet define. Maybe it was because she hadn't been afraid of him or maybe it was that he hadn't been afraid of her. Perhaps it was because they'd read together, or perhaps because they had kissed.

But moving forwards, Tonks felt far from disheartened on the matter. Because she knew the truth now that underneath all that self-doubt and worry, there was a Remus who wasn't afraid of letting himself be known, and for the persistent, that was all one needed. It might one day require some kind of a catalyst, but she knew now for certain that he had feelings for her too. And Arthur had a said it anyway. People can have surprising changes of heart when they go through things like this together. All they needed now was time.

* * *

 _Haven't been able to write anything original in a while and I figured returning to the old roots might get some stuff flowing. Hope y'all enjoyed!_


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